


Judging you.

by Black14embers



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: First date prep., Fluff, I'm Sick, M/M, One Shot, its late, this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7054243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black14embers/pseuds/Black14embers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras wasn't nervous, it wasn't how his life worked.<br/>And Grantaire totally wasn't shell shocked beyond recognition.<br/>All's well and ends well I suppose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Judging you.

“Stop judging me Courf, I can see that raised eyebrow from here.”

“I’m not judging you Enj, this eyebrow is a natural occurrence.”

"Yes, and I'm the President.”

“Well you're prett-.”

“Courf,”

“Yeah?”

“Shut. Up.”

Enjolras hadn't the faintest clue on why he’d asked Courfeyrac for advice, of all people. He'd like to think it was down to Combeferre’s absence, but he knew in hindsight he'd just wanted his best friend around.

“The red one,” Courfeyrac directed nodding at the red button up grasped in Enjolras’ hand.

“You sure? I was going to wear the navy one.” Enjolras said pointing at the shirt laying on his bed.

“Red.” Courfeyrac confirmed leaving no room for argument.

Enjolras was presently floundering around in his room for the best outfit he could muster. Meanwhile Courfeyrac commented occasionally, more preoccupied with grilling Enjolras on the guy from his Sociology class and dissing his clothing choices. Enjolras was concerned as to why he was listening to Courfeyrac’s advice, considering the man's taste in clothes.

Courfeyrac was a living breathing advertisement for clashing colors and hello kitty socks. Today Courfeyrac had gone for a more subtle look: a grey coat for the bipolar weather, a pair of green skinny jeans, white marvel shirt, well hidden purple socks and a pair of black boots.

“Enjolras, sweetie you do not pair a navy coat with a red shirt, put that away.” Courfeyrac practically hissed snatching the offending item out of Enjolras’ hands. Enjolras stepped back with his hands raised in peace eyeing Courfeyrac wearily.

“How'd you meet this guy anyway? You can't have just met him in sociology and then decide he was dateable,” Courfeyrac asked clicking his tongue as he pulled out a black coat from Enjolras’ wardrobe.

“Remember that guy who commented on the death penalty in March?” Enjolras asked running a hand through his blonde curls.

“Green beanie? Bad shaving day?” Courfeyrac asked turning to face him with a ear splitting grin.

“That's the one, well it's him. I don't know what possessed me to say yes to this whole thing, but well I'm just happy it wasn't that pretentious drug dealer you and Eponine were trying to set me up with.” Enjolras sighed reaching for his phone as it vibrated on the table next to him. He picked it up and grinned as he read the text.

_Green man: R u ready? Presently being assaulted by the thing you call Bahorel._

_Apollo: Almost, fifteen minutes?_

_Green man: Alright, if I'm dead in a ditch somewhere, you know who did it ;)_

Enjolras looked up meeting Courfeyrac's knowing eyes and quickly threw his phone away from sight, willing the blush to leave his cheeks.

“You're in deep, so deep!” Courfeyrac shouted in a singsong voice. “I can't wait to tell Combeferre!”

“I am not, now shut up and help me find my shoes. I'm not walking out in bare feet my dad will use it as some kind of diss against his presidential ‘campaign’.” Enjolras grumbled jumping up off the bed in a conquest for his shoes, dressed in a half buttoned red dress shirt and a pair of dark jeans.

“I ship it,” Courfeyrac whispered quietly once Enjolras was out of earshot; following after him when he heard a frustrated yell.

***

“Now listen here I never said you should go after that guy Bahorel, I was merely implyi-.”

“You legitimately said that I should go and give him a run for his money.”

“Well I didn't think you'd take it seriously.”

“What else did you think I was going to do?”

“Not punch him?”

“Grantaire?”

“Yeah?”

“Learn to use sarcasm properly.”

“Will do Cap.”

Grantaire was sitting in a quaint little cafe, facing a very green park and a rugged little bookstore. It was the perfect scene if not ruined by Bahorel’s and his unsightly appearances.  
Bahorel was sporting a lovely blue bruise on his cheek and a shirt drenched in some kind of substance vaguely reminiscent of coffee. He on the other hand was mostly unscathed because of his quick thinking, he didn't think his Apollo would be pleased by another black eye.

“So are you sure you really want to go through with this shabang?” Bahorel asked raising his eyebrows at Grantaire while taking a long sip from a rather pungent cup of coffee.

“Would I have asked if I didn't want to?” Grantaire asked rolling his eyes at Bahorel's grinning face.

“Touché,” Bahorel smirked swirling the coffee around in his mouth.

Grantaire scowled and straightened the striped shirt he wore and brushing ‘dust’ off of his jeans.

“Someone's impatient,” Bahorel commented grinning widely.

“Shut the front door you bloody bear.” Grantaire scowled glancing at his watch nervously.

“Calm your man tits, I'm leaving anyway, I have a drinking date with Feuilly.” Bahorel said gulping his drink down. “I bid you good morrow dear friend.”

Grantaire raised his eyes at Bahorel's conniving grin and watched as his friend sauntered out of the shop, winking at a busty redhead. He drummed his hands on the table in front of him, waiting for his Apollo.

***

“You sure I look okay Courfeyrac? No offense or anything b-.”

“Enjolras you look handsome, stop clucking like a chicken.” Courfeyrac said chewing on his mint gum thoughtfully.

Enjolras sighed and flicked the collar of his black coat up and scuffed his black boots on the wooden floor.

“So I'll see you here after 11?” Courfeyrac asked swinging his legs off the side of the table.

“Yup,” Enjolras said grabbing his keys and wallet, staring at Courfeyrac suspiciously. “Don't break anything.”

“I won't, scouts honour.” Courfeyrac said smiling, motioning for Enjolras to get outside. “I expect all the juicy details when you're back!”

Enjolras shut the door after him and grimaced as he felt his cheeks heating up, his ears most likely tinged red.

Damn Courfeyrac.

He practically found himself sprinting to the coffee shop he was going to meet Grantaire at; breathless and panting as he found himself in the entrance of the shop. He surveyed the area wide eyed and practically beamed as he took in Grantaire’s nervous figure. His corkscrew locks were hidden under a knitted grey beanie, he wore a navy striped shirt and dark skinny jeans; a pair of green converses covered his feet.

“Grantaire!” He called breathlessly.

Enjolras watched as Grantaire looked up and a smile broke out onto his face. Enjolras walked over, just as Grantaire stood up.

“Why're you out of breath?” Grantaire asked looking over Enjolras with a look of hidden awe.

“Had to get away from someone, he's got attachment issues.” Enjolras said as he sat down on the little wooden stool.

“Huh I know the feeling,” Grantaire mused. “So what type of coffee do you like?”

“Anything with copious amounts of caffeine.” Enjolras said settling into an easy conversation.

It was going to be a struggle not to lose himself in Grantaire's eyes, a swirl of deep sea blue. Enjolras could tell Grantaire would be struggling the same, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. For once in his life, Enjolras’ mind felt at peace, just being able to lose himself in someone else's gaze.

Maybe this time it wouldn't blow up in his face.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sick (ugh)  
> And this happened.  
> Idk I hope you like it?  
> I'm going to go hunt down orange strepsils.


End file.
